The Adolescence of Shinji
by dudewhatwalks
Summary: At an elite institution, children battle for the chance to bring about a great change in their world. Shinji Ikari, a mere fool, is the wrench in all their plans.
1. réaliser

The man said, "In the beginning there was darkness. And the Lord said, Let there be light!" He had dark hair and dull skin—a common appearance for an uncommon man. Only his eyes marked him as one of the chosen. They burned with the intensity of a furious demagogue, or a man possessed. In the dark bedchamber, they glowed with an unearthly light.

The smell of sex, several hours old, hung stale in the air.

"The Lord made all the birds and beasts that crawl about on this world. Then, he created Men. Male and female, he created them."

His bedmate stirred. She was pale and blonde-haired, his opposite, and her eyes—while possessing a certain shrewdness—lacked focus. They were no more than spheres of photosensitive cells, not windows to the soul. She regarded the man and his words with mild curiosity, tempered by weariness—or perhaps it was the natural grogginess of one recently aroused from slumber.

"What on Earth are you talking about?" she asked, her voice hoarse. The man paid her no mind.

"God gave to Man the Garden, a paradise on Earth. It was full of fruits, and meat, and all good things. But there was a contract between God and Man, one which was never to be violated."

"What was it?" The woman had laid her head on the pillow and closed her eyes.

"The Lord said that Man could feast on all the fruits of the Garden…all except those that grew on a certain tree. This was the Tree of Knowledge. For a while, Man obeyed…

"But Man grew curious. He began to wonder why the fruit was forbidden, and soon he grew tired of wondering. On one night, when he thought he would not be seen, he stole an apple from the Tree and ate it. He shared it with his wife, and she ate of it as well.

"The Lord knew in an instant what Man had done, and chased him and his wife from the Garden. They were forbidden ever to enter again; an angel with a sword of fire was sent to guard its gate. So it remains, to this very day…"

"And how did the Fruit of Knowledge taste?"

The man's voice hardened. "Bitter."

* * *

The building was burning. Its walls and marble pillars dell, one after another, as the screams of the doomed echoed out into the icy night. Whether misfortune or human plot had brought them to their end, there was no hope for salvation—not now.

Standing not ten meters from the inferno, watching it, were a young man and woman. Their faces betrayed no expression, no reaction to what they were witnessing. Their hands were clasped together tightly, despite the oil that greased their palms.

On that night, a covenant was formed.

* * *

It was a midsummer day, and the sky was blue.

Not merely an ordinary blue, the common, neutral blue, but an impeccable blue was the sky. Not only did the refracting summer sunlight emblazon the sky a true, deep azure, but not a single cloud was there to mar its color. Below, the waters of the lake mirrored it almost exactly—perhaps a shade darker.

Despite the beauty of the day, not one gull could be heard crying. There was only the gentle, rhythmic crash of waves.

At the shore of the lake stood a woman, water lapping at her bare ankles. She wore a white dress. Her brown hair, raggedly cut, was blown by the wind, but she did not care. Her face was slack, her mind removed by space and time.

"Mother!"

From behind her, a small boy had appeared. He resembled her closely; only his hair and eyes were different. He was out of breath, panting, where he stood.

"Mother," he said, "why did you go?"

When she did not answer, the boy continued, his voice growing more and more desperate. "Father says he's going to send me away…mother, I don't know what I'll do!"

"Shinji," the woman said, not turning to face him, "I am only doing what I must." The words were difficult for her to say, but she believed them, honestly believed them, down to the core of her soul. "Even if it doesn't make sense now, someday—"

"But it's not 'someday'!" the boy said. He was beginning to cry. "It's now, and I need you, mother…"

At the sound of his sobbing, the woman turned. She walked to Shinji and bent down to see him eye-to-eye. Gently, she caressed his face and smiled at him—kindly, wearily. She drew him close and pressed her lips to his eyes, kissing the tears away.

"Shinji," she said, "do you still have the ring I gave you?"

Shinji nodded, and held up his hand to show the item. It was a ring of alabaster, set with a stone the color of blood. Engraved on the stone was a five-petalled rose.

Upon seeing it, the woman smiled, and took his hand in hers.

"Let this be a covenant," she said. "Every time you look at this ring, you will remember me. Every time you feel it weigh heavily on you, it will be because I am there, watching over you. And one day, that ring will lead you back to me.

"But until then…"

She released his hand, and stood again. She returned to the waterfront, and when she reached it she did not stop walking. She walked deeper into the water, up to her knees, her neck, her head. The boy ran after her, but was halted at the water's edge.

"Mother!" he cried out, but his voice was unheard.

* * *

Two boys stood at the foci of an ellipse in the center of a vast arena. One, white-haired and pale, wore a black suit; the other, dark-haired, wore a gray boy's _gakuran_. The white-haired boy was smiling. The other had tears in his eyes.

"You've done it," said the pale, beautiful boy, sounding triumphant. "If not for you, I might have won this duel, and gained the power for myself. That would have been the end of it."

A girl stood to the side. So wan she was almost an albino, she observed in silence, pitiless. She took no part, and she held no judgment.

"Kaworu," the other boy said, his voice shaking, "I don't understand…"

"Man always seeks to reshape the world in his own image," said Kaworu, for that was the boy's name. "Stagnation will lead only to death. For mankind to survive, the Revolution must take place.

"I want you to do it. Only one person can be the one to revolutionize the world, and I…I cannot. My soul is not as strong as yours, and my dreams are impure. Please, grant me my wish, and destroy me.

"I thank you," he finished. The last lines of the sermon were finished. "My life was meaningful…because of you."

As his grip on his blade tightened, Shinji's found his mind turning back—as though remembering some long-forgotten phantasm—to those parting words with his mother, so long ago. Once again, he had to make a choice.


	2. rendezvous

Within a vast and empty classroom, the girl sat alone. Red-eyed, blue-haired, she seemed an aberration in a world of beige desks, grey floors, and drop ceilings. But far from a vibrant maestro of sensation and passion, the girl was oddly sterile. She simply stared out the window, disengaged, chin cupped in her hand. She did not make a sound, and there was no one to make a sound for her. The silence in the room was overpowering.

Then, the stillness was broken. Suddenly and violently, the girl clutched her chest. Underneath the fabric of her regulation blouse and overalls, she could feel a great heat welling up from her sternum. The bone that protected her lungs and heart from injury felt as though it were about to burst open, as if it were about to shatter to make way for something else forcing its way into the air.

Wincing in pain, the girl struggled to her feet. The pain was a sign; the time had come. She walked out of the classroom, feet dragging at she fought to remain upright.

* * *

Shinji held the photo up to his eye. Examining it in the early evening light, its subject was unmistakable. The photo showed a large pair of bronze gates set in a chalk white wall. Whatever the wall enclosed was hidden from sight by the gates.

He put the photo down. There was no mistaking it: this was the place. For whatever reason, his father had alined him to come here after 10 years of silence. Shinji had not wanted to come at first. He had seen enough of the man, he thought, for one lifetime. But the choice had been made for him. His teacher had cast him out, a boy of 14, and commanded him to go. Only the note—delivered surreptitiously, while Shinji was away—gave him any clue or direction.

Now here he was, the object of his quest right before him, and he had no idea what to do. He hesitated to proceed; the gate seemed forbidding, or perhaps just foreign. He had no idea what he might encounter on the other side. Perhaps, he thought, he'd better just find a hotel for the night. But, curiosity overcoming caution, he took a step forward into unfamiliar space.

When his foot touched the ground, there was a sound like thunder. The faintest sliver of sky appeared between the two gates. Shinji watched it as it widened, revealing clouds, the setting sun…and buildings.

Many buildings, each of the same brick of the wall, stood within its confines. They were arranged like a miniature city, with avenues, crossings, and even roundabouts helping to complete the illusion. The complex sprawled on like a labyrinth, somehow much larger than the space that the walls outside should have been able to surround. Bemused but intrigued, Shinji allowed his legs to carry him onward, deeper into the maze. He only hoped he would not meet the end of Fortunato.

After wandering about for several minutes, he did find a place where he had a mind to find direction. It was a large white building, built like most of the others in a fabulous Greco-Roman style that put Shinji in mind of American politicians. Colossal pillars, six in total, rose from the top of a short flight of stairs to a massive domed roof. In front of the steps, there was a sign written in English. It read:

MAIN OFFICES

Below that, in a scratchy hand:

NEW ARRIVALS COME HERE.

The addition was written in katakana, and Shinji recognized the hand immediately. It was the same one used in his father's letter.

He glared up at the building. His father was most likely inside, waiting for him. Whatever his intentions were, they were apt to be revealed soon enough. Summoning up what little resolve he had, he took the first step—then the second, and on until he reached the top, standing in front of the entrance. A chill wind ran up his back. Night was coming.

With a sigh, he stepped through.

He arrived in a waiting area lit by fluorescent light. Chairs lined the walls; a plastic plant stood in a corner. The floor displayed tiles in a morning star pattern. On either side of the far end, corridors led off to other rooms. All in all, Shinji had expecting something more dramatic. He had been expecting—silly as the idea was in retrospect—for his father to be there, face-to-face, confronting him.

He cleared his throat and called, "Hello?"

There was a sound from another room, and a woman's head peered around the corner. She was dark-haired. On seeing him, she smiled with a childlike affectation.

"The new arrival, right?" she said chipperly.

Shinji nodded. "I'm Shinji Ikari." Remembering his manners, he bowed. The woman only laughed.

"Come right along," she said. "We've been waiting for you."

Motioning for him to follow, she vanished back around the corner. Shinji after her, turning to find another corridor much like the first one, and quickly caught up to her. He was now able to see her form in full, and—in his adolescent state of mind—he was stunned. She had a tall, shapely body, accentuated by the tight blouse and shirt she wore. She had a pearl necklace around her neck; Shinji wondered if the innuendo were accidental.

She was leafing through a beige folder as she walked. When she saw he was next to her, she smiled and handed it to him.

"Take a look."

Shinji accepted it with a "Thank you" and opened it up. The first document in the pile caught his eye immediately. It was a glossy-covered brochure with an image of the facility seen from above on the front. Above the image was a supertitle: "Welcome to Rosenkreuz Academy!"

"Academy?" Shinji asked, looking at her. He was more than a little bemused at this point. "Am I going to school here?"

"Yup," the woman said. "It was a surprise to us, too, you coming so late in the year and all. Still, I'm sure you'll fit right in!"

If he had ventured to speak, Shinji would have told her she was being overoptimistic, but he kept his dark musing to himself. Out loud, he asked, "If I may ask—what's your position, then?"

"I'm the school psychologist," she replied. "Misato Katsuragi. If you ever have a problem, Shin—can I call you Shin?—you should come straight to me." She giggled. Shinji finding nothing funny, just nodded. The situation was just becoming more confusing to him. His father had summoned him…why? For his education? It that was the case, there was no need to be so enigmatic. It wasn't Gendo's style. Shinji began to wonder what his father's agenda was, and doing so made him angrier at the man than he already was.

When the two of them rounded a corner, they encountered a third person. It was another woman, she was about as tall as Misato, and probably the same age—though this woman looked older, or perhaps just more mature. She had dyed her hair a bright blonde. A mole sat on her cheek. When she spoke, the smell of cigarettes accompanied her words.

"Misato, you're late," she said. "The headmaster is growing impatient."

Misato laughed nervously. "Sorry," she said. "But hey, at least I got him!" She pointed to Shinji, who looked away out of habit. The blonde woman's gaze, though, was irresistible. When they made eye contact, she smiled.

"Mr. Ikari," she said pleasantly. "My name is Ritsuko Akagi—I'm the school nurse. Pleased to meet you."

Shinji started to bow, but Ritsuko shook her head. Instead, she extended a hand to the boy. Hesistantly, Shinji took it.

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Akagi," he said. "Now, I don't mean to be rude, but I was wondering if I could see my—"

Ritsuko hushed him. He smile remained as it was, but there was some change in her eyes. It seemed indescribably cold.

"Your father's just behind that door," she said.

"Which door?" Shinji asked. Looking behind her, he saw only a wall, and there were no other corridors.

"That one."

Ritsuko took his shoulder and turned him 360 degrees. When he returned to his original position, he could indeed see a door. It awaited him at the end of a long hallway. Each wall was lined with chairs; each chair bore a placard with a hand pointing down the hall. On the door itself was a metal plate. It bore the name _Ikari Gendo _in English, kana, and kanji. There was no window in the door, no way to see what lay beyond it.

Without thinking, Shinji began to sprint towards the door. Neither Ritsuko nor Misato made any effort to keep up with him, but whenever he looked to his sides they were there, as if they had never moved. If Shinji had dwelled on it, it would have confounded him to the exclusion of all else, but he was focused on the door. When his hand finally touched the cool metal of the doorknob, halting him, time seemed to stand still. He turned the knob, and the door opened with a creak.

Shinji stood frozen outside the threshold. His jaw was slack, his hand still stuck to the doorknob. Misato and Ritsuko were still at his sides, but he could not feel their gazes. He was transfixed by the sight before him, as though he stood on a cliff overlooking some cyclopean city—but all he was looking at was a small, tidy office. Sitting behind a redwood desk was his father. He was smiling.

"Shinji," he said. "I can't tell you how good it is to see you again. Please—" he gestured towards a folding chair in front of the desk—"have a seat."

* * *

It was perhaps the most surreal and awkward conversation in Shinji's entire life. For one thing, the office seemed completely anathema to his father's character. It was too cozy, too lived-in. There was a paisley rug on the floor, for Pete's sake, and shelves containing books with cheerful names on every wall. His eyes glazed over as he examined every item in the room a hundred times, just to check if it were real. And all the while, his father was chattering away happily.

"Miss Akagi will be your homeroom teacher," he said, handing him yet another helpful sheet—this one was his daily schedule. "You'll be in classroom 2-A in the middle school."

"Father," Shinji interjected woodenly.

"Now, as for rooming," Gendo said, blazing on heedless. "You'll sleep in the northern dorm, third floor, room seven, with Kensuke Aida."

"Father."

"I've already selected a meal plan for you. Now, I know it might seem—is something wrong?"

Shinji had clenched his hands into fists and was staring at the floor. "You think it's funny?" he asked, shaking. "You abandon me…for ten years…then you call me back and act as though everything's fine and dandy?"

"I don't—"

"Shut up!" Shinji stood up abruptly, knocking over the folding chair. "I was a TODDLER back then, and you left me crying at the train station! You didn't give a damn then—why now? Just answer me!"

Gendo seemed to be at a loss for words. He sat back in his chair, inhaling deeply as he did so. He closed his eyes.

"Miss Katsuragi?" he called.

"Yes?" answered Misato, her voice muffled by the door.

"Please escort my son to his room. Our reunion is over." Shinji could almost laugh. This seemed more like the father he had come to know. He didn't even bow as he walked out, and slammed the door—not quite accidentally.

Back in the sterile hallway, he found Misato waiting for him alone. Her smile seemed nervous, but she showed no signs of dropping it. Taking his hand gently, she led him out the way they had come, through the same endless series of hallways. Their footsteps echoed like drums—the only sound in the whole building.

When they got out, the sun had finally set and the stars were risen. There were lampposts scattered around the campus, and they were lit, but the journey to the dormitory would still be mostly in the dark.

"Where's Ritsuko gone?" Shinji asked as they walked down the front steps.

"Probably to bed," Misato replied. "The faculty residences are on-site too, you know…it's weird; you could could enter this school at five years old and never have to leave till you graduate high school. Then you get a teaching degree, and you're right back here until you die." She laughed, but Shinji found the idea more disturbing than funny. Would this be his fate? To be cloistered in with his father for the next four years, maybe for the rest of his life? How delightful.

As if reading his thoughts, Misato said, "You really should give your dad a second chance. He's not that bad a guy."

"Oh?" Shinji said. "How would you know?"

"Believe me," Misato said with a wink. "When I came here I was an angsty kid just like you. But thanks to him—his leadership—I grew up. I became a better person." Her expression was softer than it had been all afternoon; a sad, wistful smile. "See, Shinji, part of growing up is learning to get close to other people without hurting them."

"Whatever." It was a weak response, but Shinji was too tired to think of something better. He was relieved when, at last, they arrived at the dormitory. It was designed unlike the other buildings on campus: more Georgian than Roman.

"Your stuff should have arrived already," Misato said. She handed him a plastic card with his photograph on it. "It's a keycard. It'll unlock the door for you, and get you into all school events. That's all! Now," she said, stretching comedically, "I think we'd both like to go to bed, eh? Then I suppose I'll bid you adieu."

"Thank you," Shinji called to her as she walked off. Misato waved a hand at him. When she vanished from sight, he walked inside.

The dormitory was utterly silent when he entered. Everyone was probably asleep. The hall lights were still on, probably for security purposes. Too weary to think of anything but sleep, Shinji quickly located the stairs. Up three flights, room seven—check, check. He pressed his keycard into the appropriate slot, and the door clicked open after a slight delay. Shinji went in.

His roommate was asleep, a fact for which Shinji was grateful. He couldn't take another lengthy introduction. A quick check in the room closet confirmed that his personal items had been delivered, so his imminent arrival was unlikely to be a surprise to the young Aida. That was enough for Shinji. He walked to his own mattress—it was a bunk bed, Kensuke occupying the upper level—and collapsed onto it, still fully dressed. Within minutes, he was asleep.

* * *

Two blades clashed. Sparks flew. In the vastness of the underground chamber, two bodies were locked in a fierce duel on of a white stone stage. Each combatant bore a rose on their breast and a ring on their hand.

One—a tall, tan boy—was fighting with a European saber. Although he was the larger and stronger of the two, he used the blade inexpertly, not seeing the advantages of a slim, quick weapon and preferring violent, sudden strikes. He might have been better served by an arming sword—such was the weapon used by his opponent.

She was a short girl with hair the color of autumn leaves. Her features were European, and her eyes were bright blue. Despite her lesser size, she was more than able to hold her own; she could easily maneuver around every attack the boy made, and then launch back with a counterattack of her own that, if it did not hit the boy, at least unnerved him.

His slashes became larger, wilder, as he fought to gain ground. His vision became clouded by sweat and the feverish excitement of battle. The girl could see it in his eyes, and knew that she had to end the fight now. She had grown tired of the game anyway.

She moved in close—too close for him to attack her—and cut the rose from his chest with an audible swipe. The boy stood dumbstruck as the girl pushed him down. He hit the ground wordlessly.

From the shadows, a quiet, girlish voice spoke. "Victory: Asuka Langley Soryu."

The girl with blue hair stepped out of the darkness, into the space between the two fighters. She did not wear her uniform; she had on a red dress that wrapped around her bosom tightly but blossomed like a flower at her waist. Asuka, triumphant, pulled the girl to her side—and laughed.


	3. résister

"What," the woman asked, "is the most grievous of all sins?"

The man's lip curled. His hand was pressed against his face, his index and middle finger stroking his cheek while his ring finger traced the line of his mouth. As he spoke, it moved up and down with the motion of his lips.

"A question with a simple answer. Wrath."

"Wrath?" the woman repeated. She had been lying on her side facing away from her partner, but at his unexpected response she inclined her head towards him. "Why not, say, pride?"

"Pride is the Original Sin," he admitted, scratching his beard, "but—like Envy, Greed, Gluttony, and Lust—it can be seen, essentially, as an attempt to celebrate the beauty of Creation—although a failed one, and one that draws the sinner away from God."

"And wrath?" she asked.

"To be wrathful is to abandon love, to deny the wonder and glory of God's work. It is to turn against God himself, making it in essence as evil as idolatry."

"I see," the woman said. "So to love too much and to harm one's soul and another's is not so bad as to hurt oneself or another because of hatred?"

"Correct."

She rolled onto her back, seemingly satisfied. She closed her eyes, her mind traveling to vistas beyond this one. "I have a patient," she said, picturing the face of a girl, "whom I often treat for cuts and bruises…"

The man gritted his teeth, as though to hear of another's suffering were to experience it himself.

"Do you suppose," she continued, "that she might be suffering from the effects of wrath?"

"I know not," the man said. "But I might say that, in truth, she suffers for love."

The woman opened her eyes. Although she could barely see him in the still darkness, she glared at the man with frightening intensity.

* * *

The sight of the rose garden was not unwelcome to Shinji's eyes. He did not know how he had stumbled across it, or for how long he had stared; all that concerned him was the garden itself. There were flowers of many colors: red, white, yellow, orange, blue, violet. They were arrayed like a mandala, and wrapped around the trellis that supported them like the grasping arms of maenads. Shinji was tempted to draw close, to touch them.

"Please," came a voice from behind before he could do so. "Please, be gentle."

Shinji's head turned, and his gaze came upon a girl who now stood behind him. At first, he did not make a connection between this girl and the voice he had heard; she seemed too immobile, more like a statue than a living human. Her skin was pale as marble, and her red eyes looked like drops of blood equidistant from a delicately shaped nose. Only when she blinked did the illusion vanish. Shinji immediately felt his cheeks grow hot.

"S-sorry," he stuttered, taking a step back from the roses. "I was only admiring them…."

The girl nodded. "Many people find the garden pleasing, But if it were neglected, it would surely wither and die." She looked past him, towards the rose bushes, with concern in her eyes. "I am the only one who will bear the burden of their keeping…."

Shinji stared at her. He felt overwhelmed, though by what he could not say. It was not disgust, or fear, but neither was it empathy or solidarity. It was longing, quite simply.

Shinji drew in a deep breath. He would not break down here, in front of this girl. He forced himself to smile.

"I'm Shinji Ikari," he said. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss…?"

"My name is Rei Ayanami," she said, bowing. "It also pleases me to meet you, Shinji."

She walked over to one of the bushes. There was one flower in particular on that bush, one with brilliant blue petals, that had grown to a great size. It looked as though it were about to bloom, but if it were to do so it would lose its beauty, and so anyone would have longed for it to remain as it was, immature yet beautiful. Rei, her small hands wrapping gentle around the base of the flower stem, twisted. There was a snap as it broke free. Rei turned back, and offered it to him. For a moment, Shinji wanted to accept.

"What are you doing?"

Both Shinji and Rei were forced to turn to look at the interloper. To his surprise, Shinji recognized her: Asuka Langley Soryu, the student council member whose control of the high school overruled even the teachers. Tall, red-haired, and possessed of an uncomfortable melange of American and German sensibilities, Asuka was feared by students and staff alike. Shinji, being a latecomer to the school, had not yet developed this instinctive fear—but when she was glaring daggers at him like that, looking as though she might run over and try to kill him at any moment, he could understand why some were afraid. He was transfixed, unable to flee, as she approached him.

"What are you doing with the Scarlet Woman?" she demanded. She forced her way between Shinji and Rei.

'Scarlet Woman'? The phrase meant nothing to Shinji, but Asuka seemed to assume he knew what she was talking about, as she immediately turned on Rei, practically spitting at her.

"And why are you talking to him? Did I tell you that you could do as you please?" Rei bowed apologetically.

"No, master," she said. "However, as you did not command me _not _to do so…"

Asuka drew her hand back and slapped Rei across the face.

* * *

"What is the purpose of the duels at this academy?"

The woman now held a burning cigarette in one hand. She twirled it about with her fingers as she spoke, watching the smoke rise to the roof of the chamber. It was almost invisible, black on black; only the burning stub created a point of light that was reflected in her eyes, making her look double-pupilled. Her bedmate had his eyes shut, as though he were sleeping. But he still responded when she spoke, intoning an answer in a deep, rough voice.

"You know the answer as well as I do," he said. "In order to break the seals that separate us from our goal, the soul of our chosen champion must be purified…and what better way than by showing his soul, his dreams, to be stronger than those of his challengers?"

It was a conversation they'd had many times before, and always it was the same. The answer never changed, no matter how many times she asked the question. And despite that, they continued to walk the same path, perpetrating the charade—and why?

In search of the truth, they were willing to spiral as far down into the abyss as was necessary.

* * *

"Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name…"

A sphere of light had grown out of Rei's chest. At first small, it swiftly blossomed, illuminating the whole of the underground arena. Shinji stepped away from it, shielding his face with his arm, but he kept his eyes open. Squinting, he was able to make out the hilt of a sword emerging form Rei's bosom.

Asuka reached for the sword, the light reflecting off her ring like a star. She grasped the hilt firmly and pulled it forth. In that moment, Rei's head fell back rapturously, and the light that flooded the arena was more brilliant than before—but then it died, and the vastness was dark once again. Asuka pointed the sword at him.

"You must know this sword," she said. "It is with this that Eden's gates are guarded, you know."

_What the hell is she talking about? _Shinji gripped his shinai tightly, forcing his hand to remain still. He raised his arm to mirror Asuka's.

"You may begin," said Rei, stepping aside. Shinji brought his shinai down in a defensive stance. The rules, as he understood them, were simple: each combatant wore a rose, and the first to lose it lost the duel. There were no mortal consequences for fighting.

A pity that Asuka didn't agree. She came on the offensive immediately, blade at arm's length as though she meant to skewer him. Well, Shinji thought, he could play that game as well. When they were two blade's lengths apart, he jumped aside, dragging the shinai along the hook of her arm. He grazed her breast, but he did not touch the rose—and Asuka was already whirling around to come at him again. She lunged three times in quick succession, and with each attack she came a little closer, his parries less and less able to defend. She finally dealt a blow to his arm with the flat of her blade that made him drop his weapon. Shinji jumped away, suddenly powerless.

Asuka halted for a moment. She seemed to savor her victory even before cutting the rose, for—in her mind—it was certain. She smiled and began walking towards him. When she was an arm's length away, the violence started.

She cut him on both arms and across the chest. She savored every stroke, every one of his winces of pain—but it was not enough. She had to make him feel shame.

"Bow," she commanded, and when he did not she kicked him in the knee. Shinji's leg buckled, and he fell to the ground. Asuka placed her blade under his chin, forcing him to look up. Their gazes met. Shinji looked into her eyes.

He felt rage.

Shinji raised his right hand and seized Asuka's blade. It cut his palm, causing warm blood to run down his wrist, but he grit his teeth and held it there. Asuka tried to pull the blade back, but Shinji's other hand grabbed her hand and twisted. Asuka screamed and let go. She fell back, and as she did Shinji stood. He had the blade; now, he was in control. He leapt into the air with a wild cry.

He nearly shattered her ribcage when he landed. Asuka's head hit the floor first, and before she could even register the pain he was beating her about the face with his bare hands. The blade had been discarded.

Asuka began to cry. She cried because of the pain, but also for her lost pride—because, in order to end the pain, she had to end the fight. She seized the red rose on her breast and threw it away.

Rei stepped out of the shadows. "Victor," she said, "Shinji Ikari."


	4. remercier

"The bird struggles out of the egg. The egg is the world. Whoever wishes to be born must first destroy a world. The bird flies to God. That god's name is Abraxas."

With these words, Kaworu stepped out of the elevator into the student council's chambers. They were perched in a tower high above the school, from whence one could see not only all the extensive grounds of the academy, but also the town outside and the mountains looming far away in the distance—both civilization and untouched wilderness in a single vista.

Touji was waiting for him, seated at a small table with an open notebook. He jotted down the date and time, then looked up at Kaworu as if to signal for him to speak. Kaworu obliged, taking a seat opposite the secretary.

"Yesterday, Soryu fought in a duel," he began. "She lost. This much I know, but I ask you, our gracious secretary, for more details."

"Of course," said Touji. He picked up the notebook, turned back a page, and began to read. "At sunset yesterday, Soryu and her opponent both entered the dueling arena. Ayanami—I mean, the Scarlet Woman—was waiting for them. The duel began a few minutes later. Although the challenger was armed only with a wooden practice sword," he continued, "he managed to disarm and assault Soryu bodily until she tore the rose from her own chest. Half an hour later, both combatants were in the infirmary. Soryu was discharged earlier this morning, but did not come to class. Her opponent is still an invalid.

"Of course, her failure led to the Scarlet Woman giving herself up to this interloper." Touji finished, and looked up at Kaworu. The other boy nodded.

"And this 'interloper,'" he said. "What about him?"

"I spent the night researching," Touji said. He flipped forward a few pages in his notebook, and read aloud. "The other combatant was not a member of our student council, nor do our school's records contain any information on him. He is, apparently, a recent transferee to the eighth-grade class."

"I see," Kaworu said, resting his cheek in his hand. "And what is his name?"

Touji smiled. "You won't believe it."

"Try me."

"Read it for yourself," Touji said, sliding the notebook across the table. Kaworu picked it up, and had to stop himself from licking his lips at the sight of the photo clipped to the page.

"'Ikari Shinji,' eh?"

"That's right," said Touji. "The same as the headmaster."

"You think there's a connection?" Kaworu asked as he handed the notebook back to Touji. "Familial, I mean."

"Of course there is," the secretary said. "I mean, what are the odds that they'd have the same last name? The rumor is that he's the headmaster's son, and they've been estranged since he was four years old."

"Hmm." Kaworu leaned back in his seat, and looked out towards the horizon. "That's the least of our concerns for now, though."

"Yes."

"What I want to know," he continued, "is how this chap got a hold of a rose crest ring." He held up his left hand to demonstrate. In the morning sunlight, the metal on his fourth finger glinted.

"Come on," Touji said sheepishly. "I would've thought you'd know, if anyone did."

"I have theories," Kaworu admitted. "Ten, to be exact. I've discarded seven as unlikely, and of the three that remain I'm dubious."

Touji was briefly silent, then asked, "Has Ultima Thule said anything about Ikari?"

Kaworu shook his head. "Not a thing. As far as I can tell, his intervention was entirely unexpected. Now, we have to come up with a plan to respond…"

He broke off as his cell phone rang. Pulling it from his pocket, he flipped it open.

"Yes. This is Nagisa. Yes. Alright, thank you." He shut it closed and looked at Touji. "Seems Mr. Ikari has just woken up."

* * *

Shinji Ikari felt ill at ease. It was not only that he did not understand his situation; that could have been cleared up with just a few words. It was the nature of the situation, particularly in how it interacted with him, that made him uncomfortable.

It would be inaccurate to say that he was uncomfortable with Rei Ayanami at his bedside, if only because he would not have been any more comfortable with her anywhere else.

"Ayanami," he said, breaking the silence that had hung between them since she had arrived. "Why are you sitting with me?"

She looked up from her book, seeming surprised by the question. She still answered promptly. "You are the current champion, Master Ikari. As such, I belong to you." As if that answered everything, she resumed reading.

"But that's just—" Shinji was dumbfounded by both her statement and her nonchalance. "Why should you belong to me just because of a duel? Doesn't it bother you?"

"It is the way of things," Rei said, not even looking up this time. "When Soryu was the champion, I belonged to her, as I belonged to Suzuhara before that. That is the fate of the Scarlet Woman."

"But it's wrong!" he shouted. "You can't just trade someone around like that, like property."

Rei stood up suddenly, and Shinji became worried about what she was going to do—but she did nothing, simply tossed a set of dry-cleaned and pressed clothes onto the bed. Where she had been keeping that, he could not imagine.

"I believe you are well enough to go," she said. "You should get dressed."

* * *

As Shinji left the infirmary, Rei in tow, he felt utterly clueless as to what might be done next. It was lunchtime, so if he hurried he would be able to make it to the cafeteria and eat, but that time might be better spent finding the teachers of his morning classes and finding out what he had missed. He eventually decided he could to the latter at any time, and set off on the path to the cafeteria. On the way, he ran into Kensuke Aida.

"Hey! Shinji!" Kensuke said. "I gotta say, I'm relieved to see you. You never made it back to the dorm last night, and I heard you were in the infirmary, so...hey, who's that?"

Kensuke pointed to Rei. Shinji glanced over his shoulder at her; she was standing demurely, holding her briefcase in front of her with both hands.

"Her name is Ayanami Rei," he said. "She's in our year, actually."

"Oh, yeah," said Kensuke. "I think I've seen her around. She's not in any of our classes, is she?"

Shinji was about to reply, but Rei approached him from behind and wrapped her arm around his. Shinji's arm immediately stiffened, and Kensuke laughed.

"Hey, you got yourself a girlfriend!" he said derisively. "Good on you, Shinji!"

Blushing furiously, Shinji stutteringly tried to deny it. Kensuke simply smiled knowingly.

"You can't fool me," he said. "Now I know what you were doing all of last night! You're a dog, you know that? A real dog!"

"Not so," Rei interjected. "Master Ikari and I have had no intimate contact."

"'Master' Ikari?" Kensuke repeated, looking at Shinji with mock indignance. "What've you done to this poor girl, Shinji?"

"I tried to tell her to cut it out…"

* * *

Asuka took a deep breath, and began her practice. She raised her sword to be level with her cheek, then swung it out in front of her, slicing up an imaginary opponent. One stroke, two, four, ten. Then side shops. One, two, four, ten. With each stroke, she murmured a mantra under her breath:

"I will not lose. I will not lose. I will not…"

Behind her, she heard a door open, and a soft voice speaking to her.

"Asuka?...Are you alright? You haven't eaten…"

She did not even look at the girl. "Go away, Hikari. Can't you see I'm practicing?"

The door closed again with a click, and Asuka resumed her practice. She imagined having Shinji Ikari here in front of her; in her mind, she sliced him up into bloody pieces. Spurred on by violent fantasy, her strokes grew wider, less polished.

She recognized this, and withdrew. She held her sword in a low guard position, letting its weight act as a balance. It kept her upright, kept her thoughts balanced. The door opened again.

"I thought I told you…"

"Come now, Soryu," said the voice of Kaworu Nagisa. "You should show more respect for a superior."

Asuka turned only to glower at him as he approached. "I suppose you've come to laugh at me, then?"

"Laugh at you?" Kaworu asked, sounding confused, perhaps in jest. "Now, why on Earth would I do that?"

Asuka snorted. "I lost the duel, you idiot," she said. "Aren't you going to say something like, 'It was your own hubris that led to your downfall'? Something like that."

"Not at all," replied Kaworu. "I simply wanted to ask you a few things."

"What is this, an interrogation?" Asuka sighed. "Fine, go ahead. It's not like I'm doing anything right now," she added sarcastically.

Ignoring the sarcasm, Kaworu asked, "Soryu, why are you a duelist?"

"Ha! Isn't it obvious?" Asuka said with a smirk. "I _deserve _to be. The Chereb, the Scarlet Woman, the power to immanentize the eschaton—they are mine, and they will always be mine."

"What of Shinji Ikari? He took all those things from you simply by beating you in a duel."

"A fluke," Asuka replied, turning back to her practice. She began to practice her footwork, darting back and forth while keeping her sword in a position to guard the whole of her body. "He caught me off guard, and he used brutality to mask his lack of skill. Today he won't be so lucky."

"You intend to challenge him?"

"Of course," Asuka said. "I can't allow him to remain champion. That would just be unthinkable—someone not chosen by Ultima Thule in possession of the Scarlet Woman? Eligible to receive the power to immanentize the eschaton? We—I can't let that happen.

"And what about you, Mr. President?" she continued, resting for a moment. "Do you intend to fight him?"

She saw, to her surprise, that Kaworu had vanished from the room only seconds before, and quietly cursed him before resuming her practice.

* * *

"Relocating?" Shinji repeated. He stood outside of his dormitory, still dressed for school. "Why on Earth do we have to do that?"

"It is required," Rei replied glibly. In the time since school was let out, she had somehow made it to Shinji's dormitory before him, packed all of his possessions into a suitcase, and carried it outside.

"Another one of those 'Scarlet Woman' things, is it?" Shinji asked. Sighing deeply, he said, "Alright. Now, where do we want to go?"

"The Eastern Dormitory," Rei said. "I know how to get there."

"Wait," said Shinji. He ran up to Rei and took the suitcase from her hands. She seemed surprised at this, but did not object. "Alright," he continued. "Lead the way."

The East Dorm, as it turned out, was nearer to the school than the others were. It stood on a grassy patch of land just a short walk away from the front gates, and was built in the same style as the rest of the dormitories, though it was, perhaps, a bit smaller.

When Shinji walked inside, following closely behind Rei, the first thing that struck him was how monumentally filthy the entire place was. There was dust on every surface, trash piled up in the corners, and the entire room stank of something that had obviously died ages ago.

"Are we the only ones here?" he asked Rei.

"Yes," she said. "The East Dorm exists for the use of the Scarlet Woman and the champion duelist. That is—"

"I know, that's the way of things," Shinji grumbled. He looked at the stairs leading to the second level of the building with trepidation. "Well, let's try to find rooms that aren't complete messes."

Rei nodded, and followed him upstairs.

"This one," she said.

"This one?" Shinji stuck his head through the doorframe. The curtains were drawn shut, but dimly he could make out the outline of a bunk bed and a desk on the far side of the room. He laughed. "We can't use this one. It's a double."

"Why is that a problem?" she asked, completely innocently.

"Um." Shinji felt himself blushing, and tried to keep his voice cool. "I don't think—I mean, a boy and a girl—we should have separate rooms."

Ayanami paused, giving the statement thought, then simply nodded. "If you say so, then I agree. But do you mind," she continued, "if I make use of this room for myself?"

"Well, I guess it's no problem," he said, "but let me clean it up, first. Did you see a broom and dustpan anywhere?"

"I believe there were several such instruments in the closet downstairs."

"Great. Thanks," said Shinji. "I'll find a room for myself, give them both a quick once-over, then get started on dinner. Okay?"

"Yes."

* * *

"Is something wrong?" She reached over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You seem troubled. What is it?"

"Humanity," he said bitterly.

"Oh? What in particular?"

"The human condition, rather. As humans draw closer to each other, they hurt themselves and others. It is simply an inevitable result. Humans cannot interact without causing pain, even slightly."

"Sounds more like a hedgehog's condition than a human's. But what do you mean by 'pain'?"

"There are many kinds of pain. Simple pain, when something someone does is displeasing. And there are deeper types. Impatience. Longing. Attachment. Alienation."

"But you're wrong. There are only two kinds of suffering."

He glanced at her, seemingly surprised. "Only two?"

"Of course," she said. "There is the suffering that prolongs suffering—and there is the suffering that brings an end to suffering."

* * *

Shinji sat in the kitchen, watching the clock with gathering anxiety. He had called out that dinner was ready almost fifteen minutes ago, and brought the dishes he had prepared to the table. Afterwards he had sat in the empty mess, watching the constituent elements of the dishes congeal into unappetizing sludge while Ayanami still failed to appear.

At length, once the waiting grew unbearable, he rose from his seat. He left the food where it was, in case Ayanami was hungry when he found her. It was odd, he supposed, that she had disappeared so suddenly. He thought that she might have gone to see friends, but dismissed the notion immediately. _She doesn't seem like the type to have friends. And there's that whole 'Scarlet Woman' thing besides._

His path took him out of the mess, into the common room, and finally into the antechamber to the dormitory. He looked about, and did not see Ayanami's shoes where she had put them when they came in. Shinji immediately pressed forward, out the door.

He was immediately faced with Asuka Langley Soryu, who held the stolid Ayanami tightly with one arm. She wore a smirk on her face, and clutched a sword in her other hand.

"Well, Mr. Ikari," she said sardonically. "I think my intentions are perfectly clear."

Shinji sighed. "You aren't serious, are you?"

Asuka laughed. "Why wouldn't I be? It's only natural to take back what is rightfully yours. The Scarlet Woman is _mine_, Shinji Ikari, and I will make sure of it."

She pointed her sword at him, He glared at it, but said nothing.

"Let us go," said Rei, "to the dueling arena."

* * *

The hollow concavity that formed the dueling arena was shaped like a hemisphere. It was at its widest point at the bottom, where the interior was filled with water; the arena proper was on a platform in the middle of the lake. To reach it, Shinji had to descend a vast stairway that ran along the inside of the hemisphere. He appreciated the; it gave him time to think.

He did not want to hurt Asuka, not as he had yesterday. But he was committed not to allow her to take Ayanami. If that meant he had to fight, then so be it—he would not run away. If he did, Rei would be hurt.

When he had last descended this staircase, he had been in possession of a shinai. It had been mostly useless, but without it, he felt diminished. Of course, if all this were working logically, he would soon be in possession of an even better weapon.

If all this were working logically.

He walked for what seemed like an eternity before he finally arrived at the arena. Somehow, Asuka and Ayanami had made it there before him. Asuka already had a rose pinned to her breast.

Rei moved to his side immediately, rose in hand. She placed it on his lapel.

"Alright," he whispered to her. "How does this work?"

"You don't need to do anything," she whispered back. "I will control the ceremony." She stepped away, and placed both hands on her bosom.

"Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name…"

The bright light blossomed from her chest, and Shinji grabbed her as she fell back.

"Thy will be done, Thy Kingdom come, on Earth as it is in Heaven."

Out of the light, the hilt of a sword emerged. Shinji seized it and pulled it forth, crying, "Grant me the power to immanentize the eschaton!"

From somewhere far beyond the arena, the sound of bells rang out. Asuka lunged first, before Shinji was ready; he fumbled his parry, and just barely avoided losing his rose. He resolved to put as much distance between himself and Asuka as possible, blocking all of her blows to tire her out. But her weapon was larger and heavier than his own.

"For someone who talks big, you don't put up much of a fight," she hissed. "Do you still think this is all a game?"

"It's too ridiculous to take seriously," he replied. Feeling adventurous, he went for a lunge. Asuka did not even parry; she simply darted out of the way and elbowed him in the chest as he passed her. Shinji felt the wind go out of him, and then Asuka was back, raising her sword high above her head…

Shinji could not tell what happened next, save that she did not strike him. He did not recall raising his sword, and he could never have explained how his thin saber could have stopped her blade—but then the blade Asuka's weapon was in two pieces, and it took only a swipe of Shinji's blade to cut the rose off of her chest.

Asuka did not seem to accept it. "What," was all she could say, as she staggered back. As she did, Rei stepped into the space between them.

"Victor: Shinji Ikari."

Something had changed in Rei Ayanami. It was evident not only from the way she carried herself when they walked home together that evening, nor only from the extra care she took when readying herself for bed. For Shinji, the confirmation that there was something different, something fundamentally altered in her, came when he lay on the bed, listening to a tape with his earbuds. He heard the door open, and pulled them out to listen.

There was silence for a moment, and then…

"Thank you."

He thought he never slept as peaceably as he did that night.


	5. renoncer

"Later work by physicists such as Niels Bohr refined Rutherford's model…"

Shinji was in class again. He might have been grateful for a taste of the mundane, and if he were honest with himself, he was. But he was concerned with too much at the moment to do more than scribble some halfhearted notes on the teacher's lecture in the hopes that he'd have enough time to look over the material later—assuming, of course, that he didn't have too much work in his other classes.

Today, Rei had come to class with him, when she never had before. She had taken a seat near the window. None of the teachers commented on her presence; none of them seemed perplexed by this unexpected addition to the class. He shuddered to think of the power that the dueling game, and those who participated in it, held within the boundaries of Rosenkreuz Academy.

When the lesson was ended, the students rose and bowed in unison, and their teacher left. For a short while, the students were left to their own devices. Kensuke, whose seat was on the farthest side of the room from Shinji's, made a beeline right for the other boy.

"You seem kind of out of it, Shinji," he said, leering. "Are you tired?"

Shinji narrowed his eyes. "What does that mean?"

"You know what it means. Did Ayanami keep you up all night?"

"Jesus Christ, Aida," Shinji hissed. He looked behind him at Ayanami; she did not seem to have heard, and if she had, she did not seem to care. "Keep your voice down—and no, just for the record, we have done absolutely nothing."

"Hmmph," Kensuke said in mock indignation. "And you call yourself a man."

Shinji looked down. "I'm not like that."

"Oh, come on," said Kensuke as he seated himself on top of the desk next to Shinji's. "You've got a beautiful girl practically throwing herself at you, and you won't do anything? I'm warning you, man, you don't have much time before she loses interest and moves on to the next guy."

"There's not much chance of that," said Shinji drily. "Anyway, I'm not sure how you're qualified to tell me about 'what women want.'"

Kensuke would have retorted, had an interloper not at that minute stepped between them. Shinji looked up—he had to, for the boy was tall. What struck him more immediately was the student council uniform he wore.

"What do you want?" he demanded, before the boy could even get a word in. He stood up, unconsciously placing himself in between the boy and Rei.

"Easy," said the newcomer, raising a hand—inadvertently showing off his ring as he did. "Let me introduce myself, at least. I'm Touji Suzuhara, the student council secretary."

"I wish I could say I was pleased to meet you."

Touji smiled. "No biggie, Ikari. I'm here on business, actually." He reached into his pocket, and Shinji for a moment feared what he might produce—but he only pulled out an envelope, sealed with a rose crest in wax.

"The student council is inviting you to the dance on Friday," Touji said. He handed the envelope to Shinji, who took it with some bemusement. "Your choice whether to come or not. I mean, I can understand why you wouldn't want to. But give it some thought, okay?"

With that, he excused himself from the room, leaving two baffled students in his wake.

"Alright, that was _surreal_," Kensuke said.

Shinji sat down with a sigh. "Trust me," he said, looking at the envelope. "This is the least surreal it gets with these people."

* * *

"Well?" Kaworu asked eagerly as Touji stepped into the elevator. "Did you give it to him?"

"Course I did," Touji replied. "What sort of idiot do you take me for? And no, Asuka, that wasn't an invitation for further comment."

The red-haired girl glared at him, then looked to Kaworu. "Why'd you invite him, anyhow? It's not like he's notable within the student body for anything."

"True," said Kaworu, "but he's a threat to our plans. Any opportunity to observe him, particularly when we can put him on the defensive in an alien environment, should be taken. And," he continued, lip curling, "I'll admit he's charmed me a little."

"Oh, great. Just try to keep it in your pants," Asuka said with a sigh. "Anyway, weren't you going to do your thing?"

"What? Ah, yes."

The elevator doors closed. The cabin shuddered and began to ascend.

"The bird struggles out of the egg. The egg is the world. Whoever wishes to be born, must destroy a world. The bird flies to God. That god's name is Abraxas."

* * *

After school let out, Shinji and Rei walked home together. Kensuke shot them a strange look, but Shinji ignored it. He had not spoken with Rei since they'd come to school that morning, and he wanted to make up the lost time somehow.

"So," he said. "I've been invited to the dance. The, uh, 'Fall Formal', if the invitation's got it right."

"Yes."

"Well," Shinji continued, "I was thinking...you know, this invitation doesn't explicitly mention _you_, but I'm sure they wouldn't object if you came. And if you wanted to come _with _someone…"

Rei halted suddenly, forcing Shinji to stop and look at her.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"With whom else would I go?" Rei asked, sounding as if she meant the question honestly. "I belong to you, Master Ikari, and no one else."

Shinji shook his head. "Ayanami, I've told you that I don't buy into this whole 'Scarlet Woman' thing. It's fine by me if you want to go with someone else."

"I wish to go with you. I will go with you. Does that displease you?"

"Not at all," Shinji sighed. He began to walk again, and Rei followed him closely. "The important thing is, you're going."

Rei raised an eyebrow. "And why is that important?"

"Well, come on," Shinji said. "It would be good for you, Ayanami. You might have fun."

"Fun?"

Shinji groaned. "I'll explain later," he said, half in jest.  
"Please do," Rei responded, nodding her head slightly.

* * *

Within the still darkness, the man and the woman dressed themselves, each avoiding the other's gaze as if ashamed. They wore their clothing like armor, barriers to keep their emotions reined in and dam the passions they allowed themselves to indulge only furtively, in places like this.

"Humans always shun the outsider," she said quietly. "That is what you told me. And yet, the outsider only takes that role when he is shunned. So I ask you this: where do outsiders come from?"

"It is simple," said he. "They create themselves. Their own idiosyncrasies of character separate them from the masses. Such self-exclusion can lead either to greatness—or misery. There is no middle ground."

"So what you're saying is, those people who stand _above _the crowd are as much outsiders to it as those people who lurk in the shadows? Why does one receive love while the other does not?"

"Because the masses see what they want to see. They aspire to raise themselves above their fellows. Most cannot—so they turn to icons instead."

"Idolaters," she spat, as if the word was distasteful in her mouth. Then, her expression softening, she looked to him. "And what does that make you, I might ask?"

"I am an iconoclast," he said. "I smash the false idols to pieces, and in doing so I restore the true faith."

"And what exactly is _true _faith?"

* * *

When the day of the formal arrived and Shinji and Rei found it necessary to get themselves ready, they encountered a roadblock that should have been obvious but which they had somehow overlooked completely: while the dance was meant to be a formal affair, with boys in tuxedos and girls in dresses, neither Shinji nor Rei had any appropriate clothing.

Shinji, after much searching of the dorm's abandoned rooms, was able to find an acceptable dress shirt and jacket for the event; he would wear his school slacks and no one would know the difference. Rei, however, had no such luck. It did not look like she would be able to come.

Dejected, Shinji sat in his room. He had not really wanted to go to the dance except for Rei's sake, and without her he saw no reason to bother going. How many friends did he have in this school, anyhow? Kensuke, perhaps—but who else? He would find very little to enjoy about a social gathering on that scale.

At least, that was what he told himself when he thought he wouldn't go.

He rolled back on his bed and curled into an almost fetal position. It was a pose of supplication. He only wished that he could have had some sombre music to accompany his mood.

He was quite surprised when Rei entered his room, clad in a light pink dress that he had never seen her wearing before.

"Shall we go?" she asked, without any explanation.

Shinji looked at her, mouth agape. "Ayanami? Where did you get that?"

She raised one eyebrow, as if she did not understand the question.

"Never mind," Shinji sighed. "Yes, let's get going." He got to his feet, throwing the jacket over his shoulders as he did.

Smiling slightly, he walked over to Rei's side and took her arm. She seemed surprised by the gesture, and immediately drew her arm away.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I just thought…"

Rei shook her head. She looked more embarrassed than he felt, as if it had been her gaffe and not his. "My apologies. Was this a custom of which I was unaware?"

"Not exactly." Shinji scratched his head. "It's something people do, sometimes, but we don't have to."

"I think we shouldn't," Rei replied thoughtfully. "We'll get there faster if we aren't linked in such a way."

Shinji nodded, and actually smiled. "Good thinking, Ayanami. Very good thinking."

The dance was held in a building outside of the school itself. It belonged to one of the board members, who had given permission for the students to use it. The building was located north of campus, a considerable walk from Shinji and Rei's dorm; by the time they got there, the party appeared to be in full swing. Standing outside, Shinji took a deep breath. He was nervous, that went without saying. However, it was not merely his own psychological safety at risk—Rei would be seen as complicit in anything he did, and she would no doubt suffer three times over whatever misfortunes he faced.

"Well," he whispered to her. "No use prolonging the inevitable."

They stepped through the double doors and entered the party. Little had been done to augment the interior for the dance; that, however, simply spoke to the majesty the place possessed on its own. It was Georgian in style and palatial; a massive chandelier hung from the ceiling in a grand ballroom flanked by spiral staircases. As they entered, Shinji was speechless—as was Rei, but that was hardly out of the ordinary.

There was already a vast crowd assembled. Some of them were in pairs, but others had formed larger circles. They were all chattering away. Shinji did not stand out at all, for which he was thankful.

"Ah—drinks," Shinji said. He looked at Rei. "You don't mind if I go get something, do you?"

"No," she replied.

"Alright," he said, and walked off. Rei clasped her hands together in front of her and stood, still as a statue, in the middle of the ballroom. There were people who stared at her, wondering what who she was, if they should know or care. Most of them were soon swept up in other distractions of the evening, and forgot about her as swiftly as she had come to their attention.

Most—but not all.

Out of nowhere, a hand reached for Rei's arm and gripped it tightly. The girl did not even let out an exclamation as her captor dragged her from where she stood. When Rei turned and looked, she was not surprised to see Asuka Langley Soryu—only frightened.

* * *

"Ayanami?"

Shinji held a glass in each hand, filled halfway with punch. Although Rei had not asked, he had decided to procure some for her as well—but now he returned to find that she had gone. He frowned. Although he'd known her only for a short time, it didn't seem like her to do such things.

"Excuse me," someone said from behind him. Shinji turned around, and found himself facing the most beautiful face he'd ever seen. It was not a girl's.

"Um, hello," he said nervously. "Do I know you?"

"No," said the stranger, smiling. "Although I do know you." As if reciting something he'd read, he said aloud, "'Ikari Shinji. Class 2-A. A recent transferee'—and," he continued, "although it's nowhere on the record, the son of headmaster Gendo Ikari."

Shinji might have smiled bashfully, had he not been so shocked.

"How would you know that?" he blurted out, as asinine as it sounded.

The boy smiled. "My name is Kaworu Nagisa. I'm the student council president—and I suppose that makes me your enemy, Mr. Ikari."

* * *

The first blow to Rei's cheek did not truly hurt. It was half-hearted; Asuka was hesitant even as she struck. On the ones that followed, she did not hold back.

"Please tell me," Rei said, when Asuka paused in her assault. She spoke coldly, perhaps disdainfully. "I wish to know: did you do this on the president's orders, or have you merely succumbed to your own _ira _once again?"

"Shut up."

"I wish to know. Will you tell me?"

"It doesn't matter if I tell you," Asuka said. "Because, right now, the trap is closing around your dear Master Ikari."

Rei raised her eyebrows. "A trap?"

"Oh, yes," said Asuka. A cruel smile crept across her lips. "I believe the president should be making his move right about now."

* * *

"Nagisa," Shinji said, trying to keep his voice steady, "what do you want?"

Kaworu had moved in close to him as they spoke—too close for Shinji's comfort. He wondered if the boy was aware.

"Please, Ikari," Kaworu said. "I'm a duelist, just like you. In fact, I'm their leader—at least in principle." He chuckled. "And you are, at the moment, in possession of the one thing we all want most of all."

"Don't."

"Eh?"

"Don't call Ayanami a 'thing,'" Shinji said. "She's a human being."

Kaworu smiled. It did not put Shinji at ease, but only aggravated his gathering anger.

"You don't seem to understand," the president said. "The Scarlet Woman—or Ayanami Rei, if you like—is the key to something far greater than herself."

Shinji looked at the ground, his fists clenched.

"Nagisa...what did you want from me?"

Before Kaworu could answer there was a cry from a far side of the ballroom. It was not a cry of shock or alarm, but of rage, harsh and guttural. Both boys looked, their conversation halted—at least for the moment—by this intrusion.

Asuka stood over Rei, holding an empty punchbowl in her hands. Her jaw was clenched, her eyes practically popping out of their sockets in a grotesque exaggeration of rage. Rei lay on the ground, soaking wet. She looked terrified.

Overcome by some impulse that was slowly becoming familiar to him, Shinji ran across the room to her side. Asuka backed away from her victim, dropping the punch bowl.

"You're a doll," she said. "Nothing more. Nothing but a—"

"Shut up!" Shinji shouted. "Just shut up! Do you have any idea what you've done? How you've hurt her? When will you just let go of it?"

He wrapped an arm around Rei and helped her to her feet.

"I'm leaving," he spat. He looked around at the crowd, then leaned closer to Asuka and hissed, "You, and the president, and that Touji guy—all you've done is convince me of one thing: that I can never let any of you hurt Rei again."

With that, he and Rei walked out, ignoring the stunned crowd they left in their wake. Asuka was left alone, practically speechless, until Kaworu walked over to her.

"Well," he said cheerfully, "you certainly managed to throw a wrench into that plan."

Asuka whirled her head at him. "You mean you didn't challenge him?" she asked, outraged.

"Didn't get the chance," Kaworu said, shrugging. "Ah, well. I'll have my chance, I suppose. Now, why don't you cool off and have some punch—ah, wait." He smiled. "Well, I guess you'd better get yourself home, then!"

He walked off, smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

* * *

Rei and Shinji entered their empty dormitory well after eleven o'clock. Shinji immediately stripped off his jacket, leaving it on a coat stand in the front hall.

"I'm sorry that had to happen, Rei," he said. "I guess I shouldn't have trusted them."

Rei was silent.

"Listen," Shinji said frankly. "If they ever come at you like that again—I'll do what I can for you. But I want you to fight, too. Don't hold back for—for whatever reason, okay?"

"Yes."

Shinji broke away from her, and started up the stairs.

"Shinji?"

He stopped in mid-step.

"I would...I would advise you not to trust the president."

Shinji laughed.

"Believe me, Ayanami," he said. "There's not much chance of that."

He vanished upstairs, and Rei was left alone. She sat down, resting her back against a wall; she was lost in thought, the events of the night and the personalities involved turning around and around in her head.

_I fear for you, Ikari_, she thought. _You do not yet understand the game you play—and yet, you have no choice but to play it. _


End file.
